by clicking the arrows at the side of the page, or by using the toolbar.
by clicking anywhere on the page.
by dragging the page around when zoomed in.
by clicking anywhere on the page when zoomed in.
web sites or send emails by clicking on hyperlinks.
Email this page to a friend
Search this issue
Index - jump to page or section
Archive - view past issues
Panpa Bulletin : August 2011
How do you make yourself more relevant to the consumer and consequently to advertisers? That takes a Kodak solution. The Kodak Versamark VL4200 Printing System is ideally suited for newspaper applications allowing you to capitalise on emerging market trends and open new revenue streams, at a low total cost of ownership. Contact Kodak today, to learn how our innovative, flexible digital solutions for newspapers can revolutionise your operations and your revenue potential. Contact Kodak: 1800 895 747 firstname.lastname@example.org ExPand rEVEnuE oPPorTuniTiES iT'S TiME To CaPiTaLiSE on EMErging MarKET TrEndS it’s time for you Kodak ©Kodak2011.Kodakisatrademark. oh, for beer and exotic smells “IT’S a little-known fact I once worked at the Spectator and the Times.” Pause to let audience titter in polite disbelief, then deliver tag; “The Maffra Spectator and the Gippsland Times.” The last time I trotted out that line was a few weeks ago at the 150th anniversary of the aforementioned Gippsland Times, which has pub- lished news and views around Sale in East Gippsland since before my great-grandfather arrived there in the 1880s. I worked there only a year but it left an impression. It was 1975 and I was 17, on A$58 a week. On the evening of The Dismissal – the sacking of the Whitlam Gov- ernment – I was covering a fiery Sale City Council meeting. Usually, council meetings would put you to sleep – but not this one. They halted the meeting so eve- ryone could watch Sir John Kerr’s Canberra coup on television. The councillors split on party lines, waved fists and swore at each other. That’s what happens when you serve beer at meetings, as bush councils did then, along with cigarettes jammed into tumblers dotted around the chamber. The 1970s is a foreign country, all right. We did do things differ- ently there. Before and after me at the Gippy Times was a long line of youngsters who learned the newspaper game in the three-desk reporters’ room. Among them were Michael Prain and Malcolm Schmidtke, both to become city editors. Malcolm took up smoking a pipe at work, hoping it would make him look distinguished. The editor – later my boss – soon stopped that. An early exponent of workplace efficiency, he said taking one hand off the typewriter keys to hold the pipe was hurting productivity. Mal gave up smoking, which might explain why he is still alive and so many of his contemporaries aren’t. Then there was Prainy. He recently wrote to me that his days at the Gippy Times taught him editors aren’t always right, saying: “I’d been on the job just a few we eks when David Tulloch (the edi- tor) burst into the reporters’ room with some breaking local news – ‘A sink hole has appeared in Ma- calister St – find Walter Sholl (the photographer) and get up there . I want the story and picture. And make sure you get some perspective onhowbigtheholeis–getinitif you have to!’ “By the time we reached the scene, a crowd had already gathered around the yawning chasm outside the Uniting Church. Being young, foolish and eager to please, I did what I was told and climbed into the hole so pictures could be taken. Seconds later, to my great alarm, the story took on even more dramatic dimensions when the ground started shifting beneath my feet. “Luckily a big policeman hauled me to safety – and then tongue-lashed me for my stupidity, threatening to lay charges for reckless behaviour and public nuisance. ‘You could have been killed,’ he hollered. “I never again took an editor’s request quite that literally.” Editor Tulloch was more often right than wrong. When I bought my first car, I was miffed that he wouldn’t let me park it at the office. It was a 1961 FB Holden wagon with tie-dyed curtains and an exotic smell, it burned more oil than petrol and I had paid double what it was worth. I couldn’t figure why the cops pulled me up so often until one told me the previous owner was the local dope dealer. I learned to be a two-finger typist that year, and all the other basics of the business that has kept me in work ever since. The best lesson I learned was that you can find a form of words to say almost anything. An influential local councillor’s son had been arrested relieving him- self in public. Our policy was to cover every lo- cal court case so this looked like a diplomacy dilemma. Unfazed, the boss pulled out his big dictionary and found a big word: ‘micturating’ – medical Latin for passing water. Next day, a well-buried paragraph said the youth had been fined for micturating in public. No one knew what it meant but it was in the paper, so everyone con- cerned had saved face. All part of the getting of newspa- per wisdom. www.panpa.org.au A young Tony Wright, left, with a camera-shy Andrew Rule, outside the Melbourne Magistrates’ Court in 1979 – just after legendary crim Ray Bennett was shot dead in the courthouse The 1970s is a foreign country, all right. We did do things differently there” “ The PANPA Bulletin | AUGUST 2011 | BAcK in MY DAY Andrew Rule NPA